


silence out loud

by lalasagna



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Panic Attacks, and affection, mostly love and reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalasagna/pseuds/lalasagna
Summary: Enjolras finds Grantaire in the middle of having a panic attack. He guides him through it, then reassures him to settle his doubts.





	silence out loud

**Author's Note:**

> hello i have fallen back into the les miserables hole here r some bois in love
> 
> also implied sex but it's only at the end

It was one of the worse days.

 

After beating alcoholism last year, Grantaire thought it would get better. It did, then it would get bad again, then it would get worse, then it would be okay for a few days, then bad again. It was very bad today.

 

He considered himself lucky that he was able to get to his apartment. He had broken down in campus so many times already and it would just make things worse to have strangers trying to tell him to “relax” or “calm down.” He was seriously considering dropping out after his professor completely shredded his color theory plate. What worth is an artist without a grasp on color?

 

He had been sobbing into the couch for about an hour, trying to understand if this was even worth it. Did he mess up once again? Will he ever stop messing up? Is he even going to be an acceptable artist at this point? What is he without his art? It hurt and he tried not to think about the times when he’d drown all the pain with a bottle.

 

That didn’t stop him from thinking about it though. Would one glass hurt? He had been clean since his relapse (which ended up with him in the hospital for a week and Enjolras had never looked as aged as he did when Grantaire woke up with him staring intently at nothing. It was terrible. He would never do that to him again.) and he was doing so well, but it was so painful.

 

“‘Taire?” A voice called out, seemingly far away.

 

He tried to respond, but all he could make was a sob. His voice couldn’t produce words. The couch felt gross with his tears and snot. He didn’t want Enjolras to see him like this, but he could do nothing. There was the sound of things being dropped.

 

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, Grantaire--” Enjolras said, suddenly so close. “My love, tell me what’s happening.”

 

He flinched at the endearment, feeling unworthy. Who was _he_ to be Apollo’s beloved?

 

“R, could you open your eyes for me?”

 

He didn’t even realize he had closed them. He opened them, black blurring the edges of his vision. Enjolras was sitting on the floor beside him, seemingly unsure whether to touch him or not. The thought that he was so disgusting made his chest constrict even more.

 

“I’m here. I’m here and I’ll be here.” Enjolras offered. “Can I touch you?”

 

Grantaire nodded, trying to fix his posture and failing. The blond cupped his face gently, looking like he was holding back tears. Enjolras never understood how it felt, to have your worthlessness and self-hatred pierce your whole self.

 

“Everything hurts.” Grantaire mumbled, though his voice was weak. “You don’t have to be here--”

 

“I want to. I love you, remember?” Enjolras supplied patiently, stroking his stubbly jaw. He moves to sit on the couch, guiding Grantaire so he could hold him.

 

Grantaire breathes short and fast against him. “I don’t deserve you.”

 

“Even if that were true, I would still be here, loving you. And it’s not true. Would you like me to guide you through your breathing exercises?”

 

He nods and Enjolras helps him with his breathing. This was not the first time he had done this, but it had been a while since the last one. He lets Grantaire lean against him, speaking to him softly, stroking his arm, telling him that he’s doing good. After Grantaire was discharged from the hospital, Enjolras was the first to talk to the doctor.

 

He remembered being so afraid and frustrated, not knowing what to do, what he _could_ do. He was given a bunch of pamphlets and links to resources he could use, which he dedicated a large part of his days to, familiarizing himself with how he could help, how he could stop being so useless. After, he consulted Grantaire on what he learned and he had looked at him with wet eyes, saying something about no one ever caring as much as Enjolras did. Then, he pointed out which methods worked best for him and taught him ones that weren’t in the resources. He remembered Grantaire looking so reverently at him in those moments.

 

After Grantaire’s breathing had stabilized, Enjolras offered to get him something to drink (water, of course). When he went back, Grantaire was sitting upright, seemingly deep in thought.

 

He accepted the glass and drank it all. “I’m sorry...for that.”

 

Enjolras sat beside him. “There’s no need for you to apologize.”

 

Grantaire’s eyes were tired and dry. “I...You’re right. You’re always right. God, I don’t--”

 

“Don’t say that, please.” Enjolras stopped him, putting his hand on top of his. “You deserve the world. You deserve so much more than you think. You are kind, you are passionate, you are strong, you are brave…You are the bravest person I know, R.”

 

He pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand. “Plus, you have a pretty hot boyfriend.”

 

Grantaire let out a snort. “Here I was, thinking you wouldn’t try to steal my moment. Blondes, am I right?”

 

“There is no one else here,” Enjolras pointed out. “Seriously, though, you are amazing and I await the day you realize how strong you are. You care so deeply for our friends, for me, for your art. I’m so grateful to have you in my life. You’re my favorite person.”

 

Grantaire was quiet for a moment and when he speaks, his voice was soft and full of endearment, “I love you, Enjolras. Thank you for being here.”

 

“I love you, Grantaire.”

 

Then he pulled him down, brushing his dark curls away and kissed him. He kissed him as if he was trying to convince him and Grantaire let himself believe. They pulled apart after a few moments but kept close.

 

“Javert didn’t like my plate. Said it was--and I quote--’like the vomit of a toddler that tried to swallow a box of crayons.’” Grantaire offered to the unspoken question. “I guess I just thought that I was finally doing something I was good at, then it all went tumbling down.”

 

“I do not claim to know anything about art, but any discipline does not stand on one academic’s analysis.” Enjolras commented, meeting his gaze. “For what it’s worth, I liked how the stark colors look together. It’s a lot, but good. It’s good.”

 

“Good words, babe. A true art connoisseur you are”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes at him. He knew that he was understood, because Grantaire was smiling. Instead of acknowledging his sarcasm, he leaned it bit at his neck.

 

Grantaire gasped, moving to expose his neck more. “If you meant to punish me, I think you made a mistake.”

 

“Punish? I’ll show you what punishment looks like.” Enjolras succeeded in shutting him up.

 


End file.
